


Lightfast

by vipertooths



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College, Drabble, F/F, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 01:37:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11197743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vipertooths/pseuds/vipertooths
Summary: Lexa has an umbrella and Clarke doesn't. A meet-cute.





	Lightfast

**Author's Note:**

> I was considering writing more, since I had a vague idea of where I wanted it to go, but I don't know if I'll ever do that so I figured I may as well post this. I tried really hard to write past tense and it felt awkward. Tell me if it's awkward lol

Clarke sighed emphatically as she locked the doors to the diner and turned around to stare at the onslaught of rain pouring down beyond the awning. She had nothing to shield herself from it aside from a thin sweater she’d borrowed (stolen) from Raven. She shouldn't have left the house without at least a heavier coat, but the weatherman had said there was only going to be a thirty percent chance of rain and she was in a rush. Faced with the fat drops plopping onto the sidewalk in front of her, she wished she had just let herself be a little late to work.

She sighed again and ducked out into the downpour, clutching her bag to her chest and hoping the water wouldn't penetrate enough to damage anything inside. A gust whipped her hair into her face along with the rain and she spat it back out of her mouth with a grimace. It wasn't a long walk to the bus stop, but the windchill combined with her progressing state of wetness was already getting to her.

Her hope of there being a spare seat left at the stop were quickly crushed on her arrival. The single sheltered bench was packed to capacity, and she couldn't very well crowd them any further. Hunching her wet shoulders, she ruefully stood by a couple with an umbrella, silently urging the bus to quicken along its route.

An unpleasant dampness began to make itself known in her shoes and she frowned down at the small puddle beginning to form around her feet. _A few more minutes_ , she silently repeated to herself, even though sitting on a bus for a half hour in wet, cold clothes wasn't much better than her current situation.

Her inner chanting ceased as quickly as the droplets against her sneakers, the telltale sound of rain pattering the upside of an umbrella replacing it. She glanced up first at the black, nylon canopy above her, then shunted her gaze to the owner.

A girl who looked to be around her age stared back at her. Backlit by a pale yellow streetlight, the stranger looked ethereal; long, brown hair resting in waves over one shoulder, features soft and inviting, lips quirked upward in the slightest smile. Clarke’s breath caught in her throat for a fraction of a second before she regained her composure.

“Thank you,” she said, returning the smile with her own.

“It was the least I could do. It’s big enough for the both of us.”

The girl’s voice was smooth and low and Clarke wondered when she’d developed a Thing for that. Probably just then.“The least you could do is leave me to get drenched. I kind of deserve it.”

“Are you a masochist,” the girl asked, shifting closer to keep herself dry, “or self flagellator?”

Clarke’s smile grew. “Considering the friends I surround myself with, I'm probably a masochist.”

“I could leave you to Mother Nature’s attempt at bathing you, if you'd like.”

“I've got a shower at home, thanks. I'm Clarke.”

“Lexa.” The girl held out her hand to shake, unexpected but not unwelcome, and Clarke obliged.

“Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

+

When the bus arrived, Lexa let her board first, before closing the umbrella and following her to her seat.

“Do you mind?”

Clarke looked around the mostly empty bus and then shifted toward the window. “Not at all.”

Lexa slid into the seat gracefully and rested her hands in her lap. The way she held herself was almost stately, an air of quiet regality thrumming around her.

Shaking herself from the musing, Clarke turned her focus to inspecting the bag in her lap, trying to gauge how wet it was. Bracing herself, she unzipped the main zipper and peered in. It looked alright. She pulled out her sketchbook and leafed through it, finding it blissfully dry. Thank god; she did not need to explain to her professor that all her work had been ruined because she didn't feel like looking for her umbrella.

“Are those your drawings?”

She glanced up, having almost forgotten she wasn't alone. “Yeah. You’re a lifesaver. If this had gotten ruined...”

“May I look at them?”

Clarke passed the book over, studying Lexa’s face while she looked through it. She seemed interested, pausing at each page rather than just skimming them, but her face didn’t give much away.

“Do you do this as a hobby or?” she asked, leaving the question open-ended.

“A passion. I’m hoping one day I can make a career of it. I take commissions online sometimes, but between school and work, I can't always keep them open.”

“Are they open now? I'd love to own a few pieces of your work.”

Clarke blinked owlishly. “Uh, yeah, sure. Here, let me take down your number.” She pulled out her phone and opened the app that kept track of her customers. Lexa recited the number and they talked some about what mediums she uses and pricing, until their conversation eventually branched off into other topics. It somehow bounced from art theory to quantum physics to what their favorite flower was and which movie they last saw in theaters.

When the bus finally pulled up to her stop, she stood reluctantly, promising Lexa that she’d be in touch soon. The rain had begun to let up and she rushed through it to meet Raven, who had parked nearby.

She climbed into the front seat and tossed her bag into the back, nearly smacking Murphy with it.

“Geez, careful where you swing that thing.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and buckled her seat belt. “Sorry, there’s just something about your face that screams, ‘hit me!’”

Murphy retaliated by shoving his knees into the back of her seat, causing her to bat at them blindly. “I swear to God, I will climb back there and force feed you your sociology notes.”

“Alright, _children_ ,” Raven said, putting the car into drive, “you’ve lost all your weekend privileges.”

Murphy snorted, but dropped his knees. “What privileges? Nearly being killed by your free-time science experiments?”

“That was one time!”

Clarke raised an eyebrow dispassionately.

“Fine, a few times! It’s an occupational hazard!”

She smiled and let their bickering drown to background noise as she unlocked her phone. Her customer queue was still open and she hesitated for a moment before sliding Lexa’s name to the top.


End file.
